


the tie that binds us

by dreaminghigher (regencyaus)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Canon Universe, Dating without telling your dude that you guys are connected by a string of fate, Inception Big Bang 2019, M/M, Military Background, Pre-Inception, Pretty much fluff folks, Red String of Fate, With string related plot for obvious reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-28 11:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20063005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regencyaus/pseuds/dreaminghigher
Summary: Arthur learned a long time ago that he was special, and no one else could see the strings.Eames is a thief and Arthur likes him anyway. Everything is still the same, but Arthur can see Red Strings of Fate.There are moments when Arthur thinks he needs to tell Eames about the strings. He owes him the truth, he thinks, Eames deserves to know. Other times, well.Eames knows enough, and he has secrets of his own. Arthur is allowed this one.





	the tie that binds us

**Author's Note:**

> For the Inception Big Bang 2019. Accompanied by **amazing** art from [glasspunkart](https://glasspunkart.tumblr.com/post/186684182335/for-dreaminghigher-as-a-part-of-inceptionbigbang). Do yourself a favor and check it out!

Arthur should probably tell Eames about the strings. Like. He should really do that. 

One of these days, honestly. 

Arthur learned a long time ago that he was special, and no one else could see the strings. 

The strings are red ribbons tied around one's little finger. Hand doesn't matter. His is on the right one. 

Tied into a pretty bow, with a side of it hanging, stretching seamlessly, apparently leading nowhere. Oh, and they stretch. Number one thing to know about the strings: they stretch. Followed closely by a number two: but they never break. 

He's learned a few things over the years. He keeps a neat list inside his head. 

_ Things Arthur knows about the strings: _

  1. _They stretch._
  2. _They don't break._
  3. _T__here's always someone on the other side._

Well, he works with assumptions when it comes to the strings. It's not like there is a handy guide book. 

He remembers being curious as a kid, trying to make sense. _ Where do they go? _And he also remembers the exhilarating feeling of seeing both sides of a string for the first time. There it is!! That first time they stretched between a couple on the street. 

He hasn't checked every single string, obviously, but every time he's seen both sides of a string, it was because there were two people in front of him, and the string was connecting them. It makes for a pretty solid theory. There must be someone on the other side. 

_ Things Arthur knows about the strings: _

  1. _ They stretch._
  2. _ They don't break._
  3. _ There's always someone on the other side._
  4. _ T__hey are not physical._

Gist of it is: if you see a string in front of you and you walk, it will pass right through you. You won't feel anything. But if you look back it will be where you last saw it, maybe a little lower on the floor. They stretch, accommodate, but they never break. 

They're not physical. Except- sometimes, if Arthur concentrates really hard on the string on his hand and brushes it with the tip of his thumb- he can feel something. A spark. Something, he swears it's there. 

"God, you're really here, aren't you?" 

The string almost shines against his hand. 

But other times he focuses really really hard and still can't feel anything, so it leaves him wondering if he imagined the whole thing. 

* 

_ Things Arthur knows about the strings: _

  1. _ They stretch._
  2. _ They don't break._
  3. _ There's always someone on the other side._
  4. _They are not physical__, probably._
  5. _N__o one else can see them._

Why Arthur, a known skeptic of all people, can seems like a complete mystery. 

They are just there. Since he was kid, really, as long as he remembers, he can see them. He just sees. And he realizes really early on that no one else does. 

In history, someone else must have seen them. There's folklore for them, if you look up 'red strings' if you can find millennial art from east Asia on fate, you can find stories upon stories of long lost lovers united by magic. Here's the thing though: no one, absolutely no one appears to take them seriously. God, Arthur's probably seen more conspiracy forums on the internet about vampires or green aliens than he's seen about unbreakable strings. And trust him, he's looked. 

It becomes sort of a specialty for him, actually. Looking. Libraries, deep forums on the web, second-hand bookstores. Deep research. He knows all the reliable sources, and lots of the unreliable too. 

"Encyclopedia Arthur, man," one of the school mates will call him. Arthur just smiles. 

"Yeah, that's me." 

Honestly, he's heard worse. 

He’s a poster child for library sciences, every vocational test tells him he should make a living out of it. But he hesitates. It's not like it has ever wielded him the results he has looked for. And the army is recruiting. Rumors of a new technology, and they're needing the people to experiment. Arthur gets caught up in the hype, and before he knows it he has enlisted. 

* 

_ Things Arthur knows about the strings: _

  1. _ They stretch._
  2. _ They don't break._
  3. _ There's always someone on the other side._
  4. _They are not physical__, probably._
  5. _ No one else can see them._
  6. _N__o one else can know about them._

That one he's learned a long time ago too. Telling people doesn't help, it doesn’t teach him anything he doesn’t know. No one believes him anyway. 

He learns to hide. It's just easier. 

  1. _T__hey're a good omen__._

In spite of this, in spite of everything he believes they are a good omen. He's pretty sure they are. 

He's pretty sure you're destined to meet whoever is on the other side, and East Asia hasn't given him any reason to doubt that. 

In the old stories the destined lovers always meet. And things just work from there. Arthur tries to be pragmatic about the whole thing, but, honestly, he ain't got any other theories. 

If people are mean to have... to have soulmates, or something akin to it, Arthur's personal thoughts on the matter won't change that, right? 

What’s the harm in believing? 

  1. _ Soulmates?_

All of the old stories talk of lovers united by destiny. By _Fate_. 

They’re called Red Strings of Fate for a reason. 

Arthur doesn’t know if he buys that part. Maybe those are the popular stories because people are drwan to epic tales._ “This is my good __platonic __buddy__, the dude on the other side of string,” _ might not have had the same appeal. So he’s not sure if you’re meant to be in love with the person on the other end. He’s seen friends with a string between them. He doesn’t know if fate adapts to individual people, or if that was a fluke, or if those friends would be more someday. Maybe what you two are is not supposed to matter. You’re destined to meet them, and they’re destined to matter to you. 

And when he's really, really quiet, on late nights and inside his own head, he admits it would be nice. 

And he lets himself imagine who would be waiting for him on the other side of the string. 

_ “Hi, I've looked for you for a long time,” _ Arthur would tell him. Arthur hopes he'll be happy to have Arthur for a soulmate. 

He hopes, wherever he is, that his string buddy is happy. And that, even if he doesn't know about the strings, that he'll be excited to meet Arthur too. 

* 

Back at the army Arthur discovers dreams. He also discovers that his little talent for research has different uses, and that he's a very good fit for the army. He's focused, and disciplined, and he doesn't get lost inside his own head. That makes for solid talents out here. 

And the strings- 

He finds out they're a lot tougher than he anticipated. 

* 

_ Things Arthur knows about the strings: _

  1. _ They stretch._
  2. _ They don't break._
  3. _ There's always someone on the other side._
  4. _They are not physical__, probably._
  5. _ No one else can see them._
  6. _ No one else can know about them._
  7. _They're a good omen__._
  8. _Soulmates?_
  9. _Y__ou can't force a meeting._

See, wanting to meet whoever is on the other side is natural, right? And if you've got a helpful string that will take you to them that should be easy? 

Arthur lives in Boston with his mother and he can follow the string as far the beach. From there, it disappears into the ocean. 

Not a deterrent, he thinks. It just means Europe or Africa, right? If it was somewhere in East Asia, like Japan, wouldn’t it be a shorter path for the string to point west? Follow up question, does the string always chooses the shortest possible path?He's gonna go with his Europe/Africa theory first. Just makes more sense. 

Arthur _loves_ the beach. Growing up, whenever things were tough, it was always a sort of safe heaven for him. 

Seeing the string go as far as the ocean always gave him something to hold on to. It meant that, no matter what, there was someone on the other side. There were days when he would just sit on the sand and stare at the waves. He imagines that special someone, maybe, would be waiting for him too. 

He spent a lot of time looking and he decides the string points slightly north. Northeast? Maybe that's Iceland or the UK, or maybe that's just anywhere in Europe and Arthur's being bad at geography but, you know. It's somewhere to start. He thinks a trip to London would be easiest to convince his mother. And if the string still goes east from there, at least he'll know, right? 

It takes him a lot of convincing but for his seventennth his mom agrees and they go, they finally _go _and he's shaking with anticipation. 

And when they land in London he's almost afraid to look, but the string- 

It disappears north now. 

He was right. 

God, he was right. He's closer than ever. 

No matter where he is on the city the string disappears north and he thinks it may be going to a different city north of London but that's okay, he's so close now. He goes to sleep wondering how he'll convince his mom to let him venture further into the country, and what is the perfect thing to say to his string mate to make a nice first impression. 

He wakes up and the string is going west now. He kinda wants to scream. 

When he comes back to the US the string still goes west (into the country?), and doesn't disappear into the ocean anymore. Arthur is shaken to his core by that one. 

The ocean was always a safe heaven and he doesn't even have that anymore. 

He decides it is the strings punishment. For trying to cheat the system. He bets the string is now taking the long path, west, connecting them through the other side of the globe just to spite him for trying to be clever. 

“I'm sorry,” he tells it, “I won’t try that again.” 

What if the thing is sentient? You never know, right? He vouches not to piss it off again anyway, just in case. 

* 

Arthur first meets Eames in a dream. 

One advantage he has is that he can always tell when it's a dream or not. In dreams, there are no strings. He goes through all the drills, the never ending training, and this time it's with one of the foreign squads. The US has a few ally countires that they are keeping tabs on or working with, depends on who you ask. Squads from allies test the formula with the American soldiers. Daily stuff. 

The drill is simple: different terrains for combat, but it's a dream, so you’re free to shoot. _Enhanced weapons testing_, is what they call it. If you do it efficiently it barely hurts.

The squads start out separately and have to find the enemies in the abandoned building/desert/forest/war-torn city/whatever map they’re working with at the time. The layout always changes. 

Arthur starts scouting ahead, cataloguing the streets inside his head, and that should be fine, is supposed to be fine, but here’s what he doesn’t count on: they cheat. Streets lead to the same streets he’s been on before in impossible, confusing patterns. Soon he has to admit that he's- 

“Lost, dear?” 

Arthur turns around in a second, weapon raised. A guy blinks at him. 

“Nah,” Arthur tells him. “Just taking a look around the neighborhood.” 

Shit. 

Guy is from the foreign squad they're up against. And he’s got a semi-automatic raised. Arthur’s fucked. 

This is already different from the rules. You’re supposed to shoot first, no questions asked. Arthur feels a rush of fear down his spine but his hand- no string. Arthur’s still dreaming. Worse case scenario he will just wake up. 

The guy looks at him. Arthur doesn't make any bold moves.

“I know you're scared, but something doesn't make sense. I can't read you well,” the guy tells him. 

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “And you’re supposed to?” 

“Yeah, actually. It’s kind of my thing, being able to read people.” 

He's _beautiful _and for half a second Arthur's distracted but they both have their guns out.

Arthur makes a split second decision and shoots first. 

“Jesus _fuck._” 

Fuck. Fuck, Arthur misses and the guys is not dead, Arthur hit his leg and he must be in so much pain. 

“God, I'm sorry.” He doesn't even have words. “I'm so sorry.” The guy is in no position to have a heart to heart but Arthur hopes he'll believe him anyway. Arthur looks into his (beautiful, beautiful) eyes and shoots again, hoping he’ll be okay on the other side. 

And then he_ freezes_. 

Pain spikes down his spine. The hand with the string seems to burn, and he drops the gun.

He tries to draw air but there's _nothing_, he can feel nothing there.

He kneels down and thinks he might actually get sick. 

Shit. He shot people during training but this never happened before. It has never been this bad.

He can't breathe.

On a last attempt he reaches for the gun and shoots himself. He wakes up still shaking.

He's got the discipline for the military but that's the one thing he would mess up in. Too much empathy.

Arthur wants to find the guy in reality, see if he's okay.

Of course he'll be okay. But Arthur just wants to check anyway.

Good luck with that. When Arthur wakes up he's in a room separated from the opposing squad by a concrete wall.

The American units and the foreign ones are kept separated within the facility. Arthur knows that. But this seems to be the first moment that he notices that they are separated _during training_ as well. The PASIV device is in a table against a concrete wall, with tubes drilled into it for the somnacin drip.

It sounds so fucking babaric but it makes perfect sense. They need to be able to shoot with no remorse. If that's your buddy you're shooting at it won't work, you won't want to cause them pain.

Fuck, Arthur spent five seconds with the guy and he doesn't want to cause him pain.

This whole thing is fucked up.

*

Arthur meets him a dream again. This time, Arthur vouches not to shoot. He doesn’t care if it's gonna get him trouble. Killing the man that day was _shit_, Arthur can still feel the bile in his mouth. He won't do that again.

When the guy is five feet away Arthur drops his gun on the floor and waits it out.

And waits a bit more.

"...you know you are supposed to shoot people in this, right?" Arthur tells him, because it is possible that the guy doesn't know.

Guy grins. "Thanks for telling me hun. Why did you drop your gun?"

Because Arthur killed him the last time and couldn't breathe. He can't exactly share that part.

"Because it's your turn."

"...pretty sure that's not how it works."

The guy stares at him for a long time. And then, like flipping a switch, something seems to make sense to him. He smiles.

"You're not feeling comfortable with this test," the guys tells him. "Oh thank god."

Arthur was genuinely ready for the guy to shoot first. Instead he finds out that guy is on a one man rebellion.

Guy tells him that no one is monitoring them exactly, because in dreams they are harder to track, and he's got a theory that he needs an accomplice for. They can get away with not killing the others if they imagine themselves into different bodies, and send projections of themselves, the real bodies, to the actual fight.

"Are you crazy?"

"Nope."

"You sound crazy."

"You never know, it could work, dear."

"...Arthur"

"Oh. Nice to meet you. Name's Eames. So, you in?"

Arthur is.

They soon have a system going on. Whenever they're training together they make sure to find each other as soon as possible, hide, and wait out the timer by killing time. One time the training ground was a forest and they managed to sneak in a corner of a casino salon and play poker. 

That's usually too risky though. They just hide and chat quietly. 

Arthur doesn’t know how they’re getting away with it. It sounds so bold, so _stupid_ to contradict the army's training program.

But one of the things about the dreams is: you can't put cameras in them.

For the military it comes down to this: the dreams are great for training the soldiers without permanent consequences. But the soldiers in the dream are just harder to record. And no one really assumes that two soldiers from opposing squads are conspiring to… kill time during the trainings and not shoot anyone? The squads rotate anyway. They don’t always train together and so they can't always get away with it. And whenever Arthur trains against any other team or has one on one evaluations with squad leaders his performance is phenomenal. 

“We shouldn't be doing this,” Arthur says one day, when they're eating grapes. 

From somewhere above ground, there’s a sound of explosion. 

“We shouldn’t be doing any of this at all,” and Eames gestures to the simulation in general. “It's fucked up.” 

Arthur can't argue with that. 

Another time they're playing chess on top of a skyscraper. Arthur dreams up a sniper and spies on their projections fighting on the street. 

“Can't they tell? If someone kills a projection that looks like me I won’t wake up on the other side.” 

“The person who kills it will be from the opposing squad. If they wake up they wake up in a separate room, they won't see what happened to you. Check.” 

It makes sense. Arthur turns back to the board and sees he'll lose in three rounds. Might as well, he thinks. They’ve got time for a rematch. 

* 

It's enough of a system to catch him by surprise when one day Eames doesn’t show up. 

Arthur _panics_. 

It's the right squad. Arthur knows it is. The vaguely familiar faces from the British military are still there but Eames _isn’t_ and Arthur is terrified. 

What if something happened to him? What if he's- god, Arthur can't even think about it. He has to be fine. 

What if he was reassigned and Arthur wasn’t informed? Arthur doesn't even have a full name. How on earth would he find him? 

What if- 

Arthur feels a shiver run down his spine. What if he was never even real? Just another figment of Arthur’s imagination, used to confuse him? God, dream training is so _fucked up_.

Arthur is not gonna give up without a fight.

Within the dream he finds trouble and runs headfirst into it, takes down someone, he doesn’t even know who, and gets shot himself. He wakes up with the faint taste of blood in his mouth. 

When he opens his eyes he looks around for the assistant running the drills and puts on his politest persona. 

“Hello? Excuse me." Arthur smiles. "One of the soldiers for the British squad wasn't on training today. Am I allowed to enquire about that?" 

The assistant looks up from the PASSIV. "What's your enquiry?"

"His name is Eames. I was wondering if there had been reassignments in his unit."

“Yes, I know who he is. Strange you would know him by name. Forming interpersonal relationships with the soldiers shooting _at you _won’t work as a strategy when you’re out there in the field.” 

“Of course ma'am.” He even nods. But still, he needs to know. He doesn’t back down. After a moment she sighs. 

“He might be there for the next training. Dismissed, soldier.” 

Arthur feels like shit. He's got nothing to do but wait. 

* 

On the next simulation, Eames is back. 

He, he's just _there_. Arthur was _terrified_ and now Eames is just there. Eames is creating an illusion to hide them at the corner of a building and pulling out some throwing darts. 

Arthur could cry. 

He makes the target disappear. Eames will forgive him, but Arthur doesn't give a fuck about darts right now. 

“You weren’t here the other day,” Arthur says, as casual as he can make it. Eames blinks at him. 

“Missed me, love?” 

“Maybe. What were you doing?” 

“Wanted a day off.” Eames gives him a smile. It feels off. 

“Eames. What happened?” 

“Don't panic mate. It's fine.” 

“_Eames._” 

“I had a somnacin overdose.” 

Arthur freezes. 

“_What_?” 

“They messed up the dose. I spent a couple days in the infirmary.” 

“What the_ fuck_? They _messed up the dose?_ Eames, what- You could have died.” 

Eames sighs. He reaches over and steadies one of Arthur's hands. Arthur didn’t even notice he was shaking. 

Eames holds Arthur’s hand in a loose grip a brings it to his forehead, to show his (normal) temperature. It just makes Arthur _infuriated _at the thought of him burning with a fever. 

“I'm fine. See? It was fine love, I was just having some hallucinations. This shit's better than drugs.” 

Arthur is _furious_. 

“Don’t you dare joke about this Eames. One of their soldiers overdoses and they _continue __with training _for the other ones? We weren’t even informed. This is fucked up.” 

“Everything about this is, Arthur. Haven’t you noticed? They’re still discovering how the dreaming works. The right dosages, for how long to administrate the drugs. This is all a test. Mistakes were doomed to be made.” 

Is Eames _defending _them? “This doesn't make it any better! We’re _g__uinea pigs_. Fuck, you could have died and I wouldn’t even-" 

Arthur cuts himself off. Eames looks at him so much _something _in his eyes that he probably hears him loud and clear anyway. 

“Arthur, shit. I'm fine. We'll be fine.” 

Eames gives his hand a squeeze that is meant to be reassuring. Arthur breathes, or tries to, and looks down at their joint fingers. It’s so weird the sight of his hand without the string there, like some vital part of him is missing. 

But no, when he thinks about it, he can feel the energy pulsing within him anyway, bright and beautiful. The reassurance works. He counts to three and squeezes back. 

“Don't pull this shit again,” Arthur tells him, so he can joke about this, so he can pretend that Eames has any power over keeping himself safe. He doesn’t. Arthur knows he doesn’t. Eames smiles anyway. 

“Yes, sir.” 

When Arthur wakes up he is, of course, in a room separated from Eames and the opposing squad by a concrete wall. Arthur doesn’t know why it feels more painful than the other times. 

* 

“Are you real?” Arthur asks him out of the blue one day. 

Eames blinks at him. “’Scuse me?” 

“I've only seen you dreams. Made me think you could be a projection.” 

“I'm the stuff of dreams, huh?” Eames’ tone is light, but his face isn't. He can probably tell Arthur was worried. He ruffles Arthur's hair. “I'm real. We should meet one of these days.” 

That’s what Arthur was afraid he was gonna say. 

“We have to be within physical distance to be put into simulations together,” Eames says carefully. He is, of course, absolutely right. “The wall has all theses tubes for the somnacin drip. We're one room away.” He's saying all the things that Arthur thought about a thousand times. Yeah, Arthur knows, Eames is right. “We're probably stationed on different parts of the same base.” God, Arthur knows. He just- 

He never, ever considered meeting his string mate before knowing what they were. It just wasn’t possible, right? He'd see it and he'd know. But god, Eames is- he's brilliant. Eames is everything. And meeting him, seeing that the string is not there, that would end that particular fantasy, right? As long as he doesn’t know, he could still- imagine it. No harm done. 

_ What if__? _

Arthur wants so badly he can hardly breathe. 

And what if, and that one is for the late nights, when he's too scared to admit it out loud, but what if Eames really is the one on the other side? God, just imagine it. The pure euphoria. What if? 

And what is Arthur even supposed to say about it? 

_ “__Heeey __Eames,__ how you doing? So great to meet you. _ _ Looking good man. __Quick question bro, what's your thoughts on soulmates?” _

Great. He'd sound like a lunatic. 

He didn't think this one through on the trip to London. 

_ The trip to London, Arthur_, a traitorous voices says from the back of his mind. Eames is British, it would work with his string disappearing into the ocean on the east cost. And if Eames moved then it would make sense for the string to- 

Arthur’s afraid to ask. He’s afraid of a lot of things. He wants so badly he can hardly breathe. 

“Yeah, we should meet.” 

When it happens, it turns out to be a lot more dramatic than Arthur anticipated. Though, to be fair, it's Eames. Arthur should have seen it coming. 

A man breaks into Arthur’s room in the middle of the night and wraps a hand on Arthur's mouth to muffle his sounds. 

“What the fuck,” Arthur tries to say, but again, the hand, so it comes out more like “Whaa onff hmmff.” 

“Shh it's me. I'm gonna take my hand away. Don't yell, we don't want to alert anyone. So, first things first, don't panic.” 

Arthur blinks for 3 full seconds after that.

_"Eames_? What the fuck." No one has ever said don't panic and followed it up with something good. 

“Yep, that's me. Everything is under control but I may have stolen PASSIV schematic pictures.” 

“You _what_?” 

“And staged a small rebellion. By small I mean _small_, there’s one other guy from the squad helping me but hey, you run with what you have. He gliched the security camera and I went into the safe room and took pictures of one of the files. We haven't alerted any guards but I need to get the fuck away from here. Was wondering if you wanna come along?” 

What the fuck.

The room is pitch dark. Arthur's heart is about to leap out of his chest. 

“Love, catch up. I have to go. Wanna come with?” 

Arthur hasn’t really had experience with deciding to be a criminal. The complete rush of adrenaline unfortunately doesn’t make Arthur process any faster. 

“What the fuck. You got… pictures of the schematics? Wait, did you plan this?” 

Eames shrugs. 

“I was here to try to steal those. I didn’t plan the timing. There was a delay on the guard shift, they wasted some minutes chatting at the end of the second corridor and the room was unprotected. I saw an opening and I took it. I had Yusuf, the dude that I converted into a criminal in the last 20 minutes, I had him help with the security camera and then I just got in, took a few pictures and left. It may take the army a few days to notice the glitch in the security footage, if they ever notice at all-” Arthur cuts him off. 

“You’re underestimating them. They will notice missing soldiers_ tomorrow morning _though.” 

“That's where you coming in! Our squad leaders know about us. They've been monitoring our time out during training.” 

“…wait, what?” 

“-They think it's young love and we still deliver the numbers, so they didn’t intervene. They were just gonna reassign me at the end of the week. If we leave before that it will seem like a little love related runaway. God knows the army hates gay people as it is. It gives us motive for getting out of here. And again, I didn’t alert the guards. They may never notice that I took any pictures.” 

God, it's insane how quick Arthur is down with the whole thing. Eames is a bad influence. 

But this whole operation was fucked up from the beginning. Arthur feels like it's a fair ending. 

“How is Yusuf gonna explain _his _escape?” 

“Oh, he's not leaving. He’ll help me leave, and you if you come along. I'll wire in the money once I _make a_ny money. Hopefully.” 

“Eames, what the _fuck._ Didn’t you say you convert this guy in the last 20 minutes? Why would he trust you like this?” 

“Oh, I have been giving hints over the last few weeks. I knew if I was gonna do this I would need an ally. I knew he would be down. And even if he's suspicious, he got a shit ton of leverage, love.” 

“…oh.” 

Eames waits another moment. 

“…you coming?” 

“Honestly, why not.” 

They rush. From the moment they step into light Arthur’s brain is just a cacophony of _the string, the string, the string, the string_ in a loop but he doesn't have time for this. They're on the run here. 

_ The string, the string, the string, the string._

Their military base is near the North Station. Yusuf causes a distraction, they get out without major incidents and take the train to Fitchburg (why not?) to try to buy a car from there. 

_ The string, the string, __Arthur, look at it__!! Look, th__e string, the string_. 

On one hour they spend on the train they don't sit together. Arthur is in hell. He has nothing to entertain himself but his thoughts. 

Yeah, and the string. 

_ It's right there! Look at it, it's so beautiful. The string, the string, the string. _

When they're a couple stations away from their stop Arthur moves over and sits next to Eames. They're already this fucked anyway. 

He whispers as low as he can. 

“Shouldn’t we have tried to get a military discharge? Like, wouldn't that be easier? We’re not accused of any crimes, right?” 

Eames makes a non committal sound. 

“Not yet. This is simpler. Draws less attention.” 

Arthur’s not sure about that one. But hey, it’s a plan. 

And then, when he physically cannot stop himself, he reaches over a hand to play with Eames' fingers. Just a little. The string is so beautiful. Eames hides a smile, and lets him. 

They get a hotel somewhere in New Hampshire. A side of the road thing, as inconspicuous as they make them. A polite lady shows them to their room. Roughly three seconds after the door closes Arthur pushes Eames up against it. And then he just _ looks _. 

“Well, that's unexpected,” Eames pretends to be surprised. 

Arthur ain't got time for him. He’s practically shaking. He's pretty sure Nirvana would feel something like this. Arthur kisses Eames and he literally never wants to stop kissing Eames ever again. Eames sounds down with the plan. He raises one hand to Arthur's cheek, to hold him in place, and slowly opens up for Arthur, lets Arthur slip his tongue inside. Makes just a hint of a sound on the back of his throat and Arthur is gone. 

Arthur puts his hands on Eames’ sholders and lets them slide along his arms, until he reaches his hands and interlocks their fingers. 

_ The string!! _

The string is right there. Connecting them. God, Arthur could _cry._ Their interlocked fingers are beautiful. He could swear the string is shining. He doesn't know how he'll eventually explain this part to Eames but he will. He will. And on the meantime he promises he won't let it go. 

* 

“So. We're gonna make a PASIV device. Out of nothing but blueprints.” 

“Hey dear, blueprints are the first step.” 

Arthur kind of feels like Eames is missing the point here. 

“Do you even have any contacts on illegal dreamsharing?” 

“Dreamsharing, not yet.” 

“Who are we selling this_ to_?” 

“Friend of a friend from my thieving days,” Eames tells himawith a light tone.

“Your_ what_?” 

“Shhh long story.” 

Fate really went wild when choosing Arthur's soulmate. Arthur can’t believe he’s real. 

Arthur reaches out and stops him just outside the bar they’re supposed to walk in. 

“How are we gonna know those people really want to do business? What if they’re just here to steal from us and leave?” 

Eames shrugs. 

“They’re not gonna do that, pet. They'd be feeling more malicious if that were the case.” 

“And they’re _not_?” 

“What? No, look at them. It's those two over there. They're chilling.” 

They both look at the couple through the window. Arthur crosses his arms. 

“They feel pretty malicious to me.” 

“They’re calm. The want to do business. The guy is hungry, I think he’ll get a sandwich.” 

“You_ cannot tell that from here _-" 

Guy raises his hand and gestures to a waiter. When she comes closer he points at something on the menu. 

“You couldn’t tell that.” 

“I totally could.” 

When the guy raised his hand Arthur could see that his string leads to the woman sitting with him. He doesn’t know if that’s a good sign or not. 

“I can't tell if they’re a couple.” Eames wonders out loud. “Suppose we could just avoid any insinuations.” 

“They are,” Arthur tells him. 

“What?” Eames narrows his eyes at them. Arthur shrugs. 

“They are. Meant to be and everything.” 

“…okay then. Let’s see if that scores us any points.” 

Somehow, it works. 

They continue to sleep together. They also become criminals but Arthur kind of saw that one coming. 

Eames was hired to steal the blueprints for a dream den, an in and out job. But, well. In the army he discovered dreams. And once someone starts dreaming they're not happy to just go back. Eames sells the blueprints, but keeps a copy, and negotiates the contacts for a job offer for them. Getting a job offer sounds unthinkable for people without the experience like them, but it isn't. Illegal dreamsharing has room for men with military training. 

Arthur learns so much in such a short time. They try helping dream dens, and they try dream testing weapons, and they try militarizing the subconscious of CEOs with the money to spare. But the real money maker is extraction. And when they’re dreaming, as it turns out, they’re _good _at what they do. 

All in all, life is good. 

Of course, no one can know about the strings. This business leaves no room for vulnerabilities. And a soulmate, Arthur soon discovers, is a sure way to make you vulnerable.

But Arthur adapts. He switches to Mr. Eames, gets some nice suits, is a paradigm of professionalism. And he takes jobs with other people too. So does Eames, honestly. Depends on the day. 

And on the off moments Arthur keep tabs on Eames, just in case. The string helps, anyway. Always gives him somewhere to start from. 

But when they meet, wherever that is, Arthur feels like he’s home.

* 

Others join the illegal dreamsharing business. The entire thing gets progressively more dangerous. Arthur thinks he’s got it under control, honestly, but he's not running missions alone. The people around him have to stop fucking up.

The people around Eames have to stop fucking up, and also Eames needs to be more careful. For the sake of Arthur's mental health. One of these days Arthur is just gonna drown him in bubble wrap, try him.

Arthur is telling Eames this, in great detail actually. He's not sure if Eames is paying attention.

"Do you want to order Chinese?" Eames asks him. Arthur pauses mid rant.

"Eames I'm making a point here."

"I know love. Being a criminal is dangerous and we have to buy bubble wrap or something, I'm listening. You can make your point while we wait for Chinese."

"Don't be condescending."

"Love. I'm not. Food, do you want some?"

Arthur glares. Eames holds his stare, but eventually he sighs and plops himself down on the couch.

"Ok. What is your point dear?"

"My point is- my point is, what is the name of the girl that was doing point for the job you ran in Buenos Aires?"

"I don't know. Laura?"

"That's the point, Eames! You need to know this shit. This job is fucking dangerous."

"I know dear. Not my first rodeo being a criminal, remember? She's good at what she does, I did my research at the time."

"She's been arrested for _tax evasion_ in Brazil."

"Wait, for real?"

Eames has the gal to giggle. Arthur hits him with a magazine.

"Take this seriously! What kind of point man gets arrested for tax evasion?"

"The kind inferior to you, love. You have the single goal of becoming the best in the business, I know."

"This isn't about me!"

"Of course it is. And you're lovely dear, but you're not the only good one around. I've been fine these last few months."

"You've been quiet these last few months. Our last two jobs were together and you spent more time in my hotel rooms than the ones I got for you-"

"To be fair, you usually invited me."

"To be fair, you usually understood my words a little different than I how meant them."

"'Nice work Eames, we should go over this later' was totally an invitation. Don't even deny it."

Arthur wants to shake him. He feels himself smiling.

"And you never kicked me out," Eames adds.

"No, I didn't," Arthur concedes. "The last time we actually took separate jobs was, what, January? That one you did on the Bangkok head of international affairs for that company while I was in Congo."

"Oh, I remember. The point man missed the fact that there was a whole other team working the same job, I almost got shot-"

"Yes, Eames."

"And I had to flee the country-

"You might have mentioned, Eames."

"With a black eye, barely any money and only one of the three passports I went there with."

"I could have given you money if you told me. Hell, I could have gone there and gotten you out of the country myself."

"My grand escape was impressive in the end." He flashes Arthur a brilliant smile. Arthur isn't impressed.

"Doesn't change the fact that if you told me you were in trouble -- nevermind, I'm not doing this again. My point was, what was my point?"

Eames shrugs. "I don't know mate. Think it had something to do with bubble wrap?"

God, Eames is a bumbass. Arthur makes an encompassing gesture.

"The bubble wrap is a metaphor, Eames! It's about the ability to keep yourself safe. Get some."

Eames is smiling at him. He leans an elbow on the back of the sofa, unknowingly spreading the string across his lap.

Arthur thinks only 30% of his point came accross. Whatever, you do what you can.

Arthur sits astride Eames' waist and lays a kiss on Eames' neck. And another one. And another just beneath his ear. That one makes Eames shiver.

"Done, love?"

"Maybe."

"What can I do?"

"Distract me," Arthur tells him, and uses the hand with the string to pull on Eames' hair.

"Happy to, dear."

*

The strings are not physical except when they are; if Arthur concentrates particularly hard, he swears he can feel the ribbon on his skin. 

Arthur develops a slight obsession with Eames' hands. On the moments the two of them are alone, and the world outside isn’t interfering, Arthur will reach out for Eames' hands. Arthur will trace the lines on his palm, the shape of his fingers, map out every bump and callous on Eames' rough skin. He'll have Eames' hand between his own whenever he can get away with it. 

And he can get away with it a lot. Eames, Arthur learns, is in the habit of indulging him. 

The string continues to be there. Absolutely beautiful, that one. When Arthur slots the fingers of his right hand between the ones of Eames’ left one the string is just right there, held between them. Bow to bow. Something feels right about that. 

He doesn’t try the whole concentrating really hard when Eames can see him though. He doesn't know how he would explain that part. But when Eames isn't around, or when he’s asleep, with his hand out of the covers just so, Arthur tries. He focuses on all the power there, on the energy flowing through and back, on the shining beautiful_ light_ he can feel deep with him, and when he tries- There! Something brushed against his skin, he swears it did. Next step will be trying to hold the entire ribbon between his fingers.

*

There are moments when Arthur thinks he needs to tell Eames about the strings. He owes him the truth, he thinks, Eames deserves to know. Other times, well. 

Eames knows enough, and he has secrets of his own. Arthur is allowed this one. 

Maybe someday it will come up over Sunday brunch or something. 

_ “Oh yeah, by the way, I can __see __red strings that I'm pretty sure are tied up to being literal soulmates and we one. Get it? Tied up __hehe.__ Anyway, no pressure or anything. Love __what we’ve got going on here__.” _

Yeah, that would go over lovely, Arthur. 

Food for thought, he guesses. 

In a way, the string is a blessing, and a curse. 

Arthur hates the absence of choice in this. Choice, the power there, being able to choose, that matters to him. To know that as messed up as things get, the very moment he wants to walk away from them he can. 

That power gives meaning to his actions. It says: he's there out of his own free will. It says: he could walk away if he chose to, and he doesn't. He's there because he wants to. 

And every time Eames so much as fucking breathes Arthur knows he's there because he wants to, would want to, would choose a thousand times, no questions asked, Eames means the _ world _, fuck the string- but the string is still there. He can't pretend it isn't. He can't know what it is like to choose Eames when you don't know about the string, when there's no lifetime commitment there. When you're just stumbling in the dark like everyone else. And he doesn't want to take that away from Eames. 

Even if Eames believes him, and he's beginning to think- he's beginning to think Eames would believe him. That at Eames' core he trusts Arthur and would take him seriously. But then, if Eames believes him, that's it. Magical entities put the string there and if you don't know anything else about the strings you know that they stretch but never break. You can't walk away from them. Choice over. 

In a way, the string is a blessing, and a curse. 

* 

_ Things Arthur knows about the strings: _

  1. _ They stretch._
  2. _ They don't break._
  3. _ There's always someone on the other side._
  4. <strike>_They are not physical__. _</strike>_Mostly not physical, e__xcept when they are, but that's a whole other matter._
  5. _<strike>No one else can see them.</strike> __? __– someone else must have__?__see also art from thousands of years ago_
  6. _<strike>No one else can know about them.</strike> __Should tell Eames_
  7. _They're a good omen__._
  8. _ Soulmates __**?????**_
  9. <strike>_You can't force a meeting__. _</strike>_Meeting __not working__ was unrelated _

Arthur thinks about how many things he turned out to be wrong about. 

On a whim, he goes to a blank page on his moleskine and decides it is time for an updated list. 

_ Things Arthur _**_believes_**_ about the __strings __of fate _ _ : _

  1. _Stretch but never break._
  2. _There’s always someone on the other side._
  3. **_They are a good omen._**
  4. _He should tell Eames. Probably._

He closes the notebook and saves the thought for another day. 

* 

Arthur nearly gets himself killed. Must be tuesday. Arthur is pulled abruptly out of the dream but Eames is still under, and deep, and Arthur has no way to warn him. There's a man muffling Arthur's screams and Eames has a gun on his holster that the guy hasn't seen and could help but Eames is not gonna wake up in time and Arthur is fucked. He's fucked.

The string is shimmering. Arthur can feel raw power burning so badly that his skin is nearly on fire. Before he can think about it, before he can come up with any other plan at all, he moves his hand in a semi circle across the air, so the string will caught between his fingers, and he _pulls_.

Eames falls from the chair. 

He wakes up, _finally_, and the commotion distracts the guy attacking Arthur. It's the opportunity Arthur needs.

It takes some effort, but they flee the country. Some time after their escape, when they're lazing around in a small hotel at the border, Eames asks Arthur how Arthur gave him a kick. Arthur tells him it was magic.

They get a cat. They get a dozen apartments across the globe, actually, but the cat likes traveling. It's fine. 

When they’re working different jobs they rock-paper-scissor it out for the cat duties. No issues so far. 

Arthur's 97% sure he's Eames' boyfriend. The quiet moments between jobs help. Eames is doing a crossword puzzle and telling him some bad joke about the last job and Arthur thinks that yeah, Eames is very much his soulmate. 

Then Arthur makes himself some coffee and plays with the cat. One issue at a time. 

He hasn’t made much progress in his eventually-telling-Eames-about-the-string plan. He doesn't know why. It could be an asset on the field, if he could tell Eames about it. On a whim, Arthur focuses really, really hard on the string. Eames frowns and rubs at his hand.

Eames is bound to ask him what happened again.

Maybe it’s about time Arthur takes a leap.

He puts the coffee down.

Now or never, right?

“I can see red strings of fate.” 

Fuck.

Eames looks up from his crossword puzzle. 

“Come again, love?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Arthur sounds _insane_.

In for a penny, they say?

“Red Strings of Fate. I can see them.” 

“Oh yeah, I saw a list about it on your moleskine. Was that literally then?” 

Wait.

...what?

“You saw that _where,_ dear?” 

“Your moleskine?" Eames makes it sound perfectly innocent, like Arthur isn't about to jump at him from across the table. “The notebook? I'm a thief love. And I depend a lot on you. If you were hiding something I needed to know what.” 

Arthur counts to ten inside his head.

And then backwards. 

“So you _stole my __moleskine_?” 

“Temporarily misplaced it?”

It takes everything in Arthur to remain composed. Eames raises the crossword puzzle as a shield.

“Ok that's just ridiculous," Eames tells him. "You look like you’re about to fight me MMA style.” 

“I_ am._” Arthur really, really is. 

“You’re my boyfriend love. You couldn’t possibly believe you were never gonna let your guard down around me. And I'm a _thief_, you know that. Our affair started with us stealing blueprints from a military base.” 

“_You _stealing blueprints from a military base. I was going along for the ride. Wait, I am what?” 

“My accomplice?” 

Arthur pauses. 

“Well, when you put it like that.” 

“I knew you'd get the right spirit babe. But don’t play dumb. We don’t really talk about this but you've got page after page on that moleskine just covered with name. And also some really cool drawings, I knew you didn’t pay attention to half of what Cobb says.” 

“Hey, pay attention.” 

Eames is unimpressed. 

“He rambles a lot,” Arthur concedes. “And repeats himself, I don’t have to write all that twice.” 

“I believe that babe.” 

“Why are we discussing this and not the part where I admitted to be a crazy person?” 

That makes Eames hesitate. “Are you? A 'crazy person'?” 

Arthur doesn’t see how that's the point. “Don't you think I _am_?” 

“No.” Eames sits up straighter. He drops the puzzle back on the table, like he’s finally about to take this seriously. “No, I don’t think you are,” he starts, slowly. “I think- Christ Arthur, if you mean that literally, if that’s real and you've got some way to know about that, you can _see _that, I think you have an amazing gift.” 

God. Arthur can barely breathe.

All the fight leaves him in a rush. 

He _hoped_, but he just didn’t expect an answer like this. For a moment, he thinks he might cry. 

“No, Arthur, it’s okay.” Eames stands up and draws him into a hug. Arthur is shaking. He might be shaking, he doesn’t know. He loses sense of self. Eames just holds him close and murmurs encouragement into his hair. ‘It's okay,’ and ‘we're fine dear,’ and ‘shh.’

Arthur just hangs on tight and tries to breathe.

A few moments pass in silence. Eames sighs. 

“You wrote you ‘should tell Eames.’ Why? Is that what this is about? Are you gonna break up with me because you still have to meet the person on the other side?”

Arthur blinks. Very slowly. And then he blinks again. 

..what?

It's so clear to Arthur, it's just been so clear for such a long that it doesn’t even cross his mind that Eames wouldn’t know. 

“Eames… you’re the person on the other side.”

That stops Eames in his tracks. He seems genuinely surprised at that one. Slowly, he starts to smile. 

“Convenient then, huh?”

It can't possibly be this easy. 

"You don't mind?"

Eames is looking at him with such kindness Arthur can barely handle it. He brushes a thumb down Arthur's cheek, and leans down to press a kiss to his lips.

"I don't mind."

Eames looks at their fingers.

"Which hand?"

"This one," Arthur points to him, and shows off a few tricks he picked up over the years. When the string brushes against his finger Eames is elated, and tells Arthur to do it again, and another time after that. Arthur indulges him.

But Eames is still on thin ice here.

"Still can't believe you stole my fucking notebook dude."

“Yeah. And now's as good a time as any to mention that I've got a supernatural ability to tell people's feelings." 

Arthur stops.

"Excuse me?" 

“Hey, I don't know either love. You learn as you go. I've got a list similar to yours. 1. Gets fuzzy from further than 2 meters. 2. Doesn't work in mirrors and pictures. 3. If someone is feeling more than one thing, and most of us are, it only reflects the one closer to the surface.” 

Arthur doesn’t know what to say. 

“…are you fucking with me?” 

“Nope. But I've only got half the feelings catalogued. A lot of them are too complex or unique for me to be able to tell.” 

What. The. Fuck. 

“Eames. What the fuck.” 

“Yeah,” Eames shrugs. “And before you ask, I've never used this against you. Not against you, at least. Most of the times you were a mystery.” 

“Good for me.” 

“Maybe you were just feeling ‘that’s my soulmate!!’ on a loop and I had no basis for comparison?” 

Arthur is gonna fight him MMA style after all.

“Hey, I'm messing with you," Eames is quick to tell him, "I just learned red strings of fate are real, give a guy some time. What was I saying? Oh, I’m able to tell little things, like when you’re hungry. Or down for a fuck. Or needing some coffee.” 

Arthur actually considers this for a moment.

“Makes you a good dream spy.” 

Eames hums. “And a good thief,” he agrees. “But it’s just a headstart. The rest is talent.” 

“What am I feeling right now.” 

Eames hesitates. “…you want to fight me MMA style.” 

Arthur smirks. “Yeah, that should be the one closer to the surface.” 

“Please don’t fight me MMA style?” 

“Still making up my mind.” 

“Hey, listen, in my defense you had a mystery too. I found out about it by_ stealing your notebook,_ and then I spent a week trying to figure out if you just wrote that to fuck with me. We’re even.”

Yeah, he's right.

The fight doesn't seem to matter that much anymore.

Arthur has a red string of fate and that is leading here to this man, right here and right now.

Arthur hugs Eames again. And holds him tight. He breathes into Eames hair and feels the power of the string deep within him telling him it's gonna be alright. He won't let it go.

“I've been looking for you for a long time,” Arthur tells him, because he’s always wanted to tell him, because it’s true, maybe the truest thing he knows. 

“I'm here love. I'm so glad you found me,” Eames says, and Arthur finds the answer he has dreamed of for so long. 

**Author's Note:**

> Earlier this year we had a bedsharing fest and someone submitted Red String of Fate as a prompt. I couldn't make it work with the actual, you know, bedsharing, but this was inspired by that one. Whoever you were, thanks!
> 
> My inception blog is at [dreaminghigher](https://dreaminghigher.tumblr.com/).


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